


Impressions

by Gairid



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Pure Purple Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4571073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I felt the need to indulge in some purple-prosed schmoopy goodness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impressions

There was a time when I could not move until full dark, trapped in a state where I was aware yet unable to move or make a sound. I hated that almost as much as I hated the inexorable drag each morning into that state. I am still not over-fond of the condition but these days, having shared Lestat’s powerful blood so often, I am at least able to surface from this well while there is still a good deal of light in the sky. 

Lestat is still very often up and awake before me as he was this evening. I was just at the edge of movement when he rose from the bed. I could see him through half-closed eyes, raking back his pale hair with a familiar impatient gesture as he crossed the room to go to the tall window. I was about to speak, to call him back to the bed when he parted the heavy drapes and the room was suddenly bathed in light, a rosy, golden glow that limned his hair and painted his tawny skin. Whatever I’d thought to say flew away, cut off cleanly when I pulled in a sharp breath. 

Angelic. Yes, he looked like an angel, a halo in his unruly blond hair made by the fire of the setting sun. He leaned on the iron rail and turned his head to survey Paris, spread before him. His profile was a vital shadow against the burning sky, the high clouds streaked with orange and purple and deep pink. Seeing him thus, perhaps something in his movement pulled forth the memory. I can see it very clearly, the night he came to me when I was mortal still, gasping and feverish in the dense heat of my bedchamber. I was trying to understand what he was, what sort of creature could possess such frightening beauty and I’d thought the same thing then as I did now. An angel. And like one who is shown an angel, I had no words to convey the awe I felt, much less the actual depth of what it feels like to love him, to be loved in return by him. 

Lestat turned and I let out the breath I’d been holding only to draw another in as sharp as the first. His skin was so delectably mouth-watering, I thought, and though the light was beginning to fade, I realized I’d been given a gift, a vision to see what he looked like with the sun in his hair. 

He saw me watching him and his eyes went soft. “Ah,” said the Vision. “You are awake, I see.” I opened my mouth to speak only to hear nothing at all come forth. “Louis? Is something wrong?” His brows drew together and the faintest of lines creased his the skin of his forehead. 

“No.” I said, finally mustering my voice. “Come back to bed, would you? I need to touch you. I need…” Once again unable to articulate, I reached for him and he came to me. The sunlight faded and darkness fell, only to be banished by the lights of Paris. The breeze that had sprung up stirred the curtains and caressed his body right along with my fingers. 

**FIN**


End file.
